The Sidney Theatre
Hello, Dearest Pasta Reader, What you are about to read is a true story. I can sense the eye-rolling already, but I am telling you the truth. I experienced this, and I will remember it to my last dying days. I don't care if you believe me, but I would hope you see the truth in my words. This is the story of my experience with the Sidney Theatre. It started, funnily enough, when I was born. My father and mother met and had me in Sidney, Ohio. Back then, it was less of a shithole, trust me. Anyway, my father is a huge nerd for film and cinema, as evident by him showing me House of a Thousand Corpses and Bladerunner as my two first films. He and my mother always had a rift between eachother, with him always bicycling around town with me, while she slept on the couch. Eventually, he decided that he needed some space from her, and moved out. He moved into a vacant room above the Sidney Theatre, a 70+ year old stage theatre downtown. His friend owned the place, so his rent and bills were super low and the only catch was that he had to work full-time in the theatre as a bouncer for events and performances, while cleaning and taking care of the place when it was not being used: win / win! My dad only lived three miles away and I got to hang in a huge vintage theatre whenever I wanted, for as long as I wanted! But, once the exitement faded, what was left was a pile of questions. Moreso what was left was a pile of answers to questions that should have never needed to be asked. Some of those questions were, "Why is this place vacant? It's a beautiful room and in the middle of down town, this room should cost a fortune! Why is it dirt cheap?" The answers, unfortunately, were two things. One; the previous occupant that lived in that room killed himself in there. Two; the cause for this unfortunate suicide was still ongoing. Why did he kill himself? Well, that building is haunted. Every moment you spend in that place you feel pressure, like you're 1000 feet under the ocean. The pressure of being watched by a full-house, while you perform badly. The raw emotions of scrutiny, fear, and sorrow you feel when you're alone in that place are nearly unbearable. I remember feeling sorry for those who lived there for the decades previously. That place feels, unfinished. Like there is unfinished business there, and something dark took place in that building, and it stuck. As said previously, my dad lived there full-time. This lasted for about three years, in which that theatre's true colors manifested itself in spades. At night, the building came to life. If you were quiet enough, and sat long enough, you could hear all sorts of unexplainable things coming from all over the theatre. Conversations, the footsteps of dress shoes pattering up and down the wooden stairs and hallways, it was a full-house after dark. I remember silently listening to an exchange between a man and a woman through the wall of my father's room. It sounded cordial, like a chat between new friends about cheerful things. There were no discernible words, but the voices were as real as it gets. I could hear the man pacing up and down the cold wooden floors in his old dress shoes, as he orated to the woman about something. It was after about an hour of the two chattering, whilst he paced around and orated loudly, that I finally realized how fucked up this all was. That room hadn't been used since the 30's or 40's, and it was only filled with boxes and old equipment now. I knew it was empty, but it wasnt! I could hear them! I grew to enjoy hearing them through the wall every night my dad and I would go to sleep. But one night, I was fed up with how impossible this situation was. I got up, put my shoes on, and waltzed out the door and over to the room. I could still hear the conversation carrying on as I approached, until I grabbed the door knob and swung the door open fast as lightening. There was no one. The room was coated in a thick layer of dust, only interrupted by something peculiar. There was a very delicate set up footprints in the dust, pointed dress shoes. I fell silent when I saw this. I felt like I was rudely intruding on someone's conversation. I felt sets of eyes staring at me from every corner, as I searched the room for the cause of the strange anomaly. I never heard the voices again, and I also never found an explanation for the voices or the footsteps in the dust. Just another mystery of the Sidney Theatre. I have many stories concerning the Sidney Theatre, but most of them are inane and boring to you folk. I will instead leave off on the last experience I had at that infernal building. I title this story, "The Day the Theatre Watched Back". This particular tale starts with my father's fascination with cameras, particularly taking photos of interesting architecture. Naturally, the theatre was a hot spot for amazing architectural photos. Unfortunately, when it comes to photos in the theatre, there is more than meets the eye. He took dozens, no, HUNDREDS of photos of every nook and cranny of that building, but most of them never reached the light of day. For you see, he took many photos of the main auditorium, where he caught some unwelcomed visitors. These figures are invisible to the naked eye, but you can feel when they're around. Try to imagine the feeling you get when your boss/superior catches you doing something you were not supposed to be doing. You have that feeling? Now imagine that but in random places and times in the auditorium for no apparent reason. That was what it felt like when they started to be near you. He took many photos in the auditorium, but when he took one photo in the wrong place and wrong time, he quit his hobby and left that place forever. It was a Thursday evening, with matching dreary and cold, Ohio winter weather. The wind whipped ice cold air, coupled with ice and light snow all week. We were standing on the stage together, chatting shit and goofing off to pass the time. He snapped a photo of the lamp light illuminating the seats on the far right row, when he just stared at his camera. When you take a picture with that camera, it shows a quick preview of your photo before is goes back to camera mode. What I'm guessing happened is that he saw a glimpse of the quick preview, then decided to open the photo, since it showed something innacurate with strange shapes in front of the seats. What he saw gives me chills. There were two figures in the shot. One sitting and one standing, facing the camera. I need not explain much about them, other than that neither of them were there. I was in that room and only a few feet from the camera when this photo was taken, so I can verify that there was no one there. The red figure, in the foreground compared to the sitting figure, is very unnatural. Judging by the height of the seat behind it, and the thing's face being so close to level with the camera, it would need to be plus or minus eight-feet tall to be shown like that. Its face is lit by an invisible light source, since there are zero lights on the ceiling. When he saw what was captured on his camera, he glared at the spot of chairs he took the photo of, then glared at me. He then swooped faster than ever before, to grab me, before charging down the isle, and out the front doors of the theatre. He ran so fast, blasting the front door open, whilst hyperventilating. The entire run through the lobby and gigantic auditorium didn't take very long, but it felt like an eternity. The minute-run towards salvation beyond the door, felt like 50 years. I could see and feel things everywhere, like all of the evil and putrid souls that inhabit the theatre were running after us the whole way. He never got back into photography. He threw the remaining photos he took into the garbage, and never mentions that place. I know he saw more horrible things there than he will tell me, but I'm not going to push him about it. Best let the bad memories be forgotten. The last moments I spent in the company of the theatre were while I waited for my mom to pick me up outside, after the experience with the photo. I swear to Jesus, Mary and Joseph themselves I saw something watching me from inside the auditorium, past the hanging brown wooden doors and the pitch darkness of the ancient lobby. I have never gone back to that place. I will some day go back for answers. My memory is too blotty to be trusted, something happened there that my mind is blocking out. I can't help but feel like I have unfinished business at the Sidney Theatre. This is the surviving photo. I apologize for the abysmal quality, as the photo is over a decade old and very bit-crushed. The lightened version is also attached. I will eventually go back, and when I do, I will post my experiences here first. Thank you. Category:Places Category:Ghosts